


You Can't Shake Me

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow Bellamy had chosen the library desk directly across from the beautiful blonde who made his pulse race. He ended up studying her just as much as he did his books.</p><p>Clarke kept sneaking glances at the dark haired, handsome boy with the lonely eyes as she passed his desk on a snack break. She took far too many of those breaks.</p><p>~~~~~ Based off a Tumblr prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Shake Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flirtingwithtrackers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flirtingwithtrackers/gifts).



> **Prompt:** Bellarke in college: Clarke and Bellamy study in the library at the same time every week and sneak glances at each other, maybe one day one of them forgets something and gets the nerve to ask the other if they have one.
> 
> Thanks for the prompt! I hope this isn't too OOC, but I kind of went to town after I heard the magic word: Library. Also messed around a bit with the ages. Hope you like it! :)

“We’re off to get lunch. You coming with?”

Bellamy shook his his head. “Nah, sorry. Gotta go study.”

“You and that library, man.” Miller grinned. “You’re gonna end up as dusty as one of those old shelves.”

“Whatever it takes to pass.”

His friend waved goodbye and Bellamy headed up the stairs, ducking into the familiar building. The place had become like a second home lately. The dorms were no good anymore. With his roommate’s endless parade of girls and the crowded common rooms, the only place he could find a semblance of peace was his little bubble in the library, the small corner desk on the second floor with “asshat” affectionately carved into the wooden leg and the black sharpie skull on the underside. Ever since the start of the semester, he’d found himself in the small wooden chair with his laptop and books spread out on the desk. The cubbyhole had enough outlets to last him days. And once his headphones settled over his ears, nothing else existed but him, his books, and his little corner of the world.

And the girl.

What a girl. Long, wavy blonde tresses that spilled over her shoulders. Smooth skin that sloped and curved in all the right places, making his mouth dry simply by wearing jeans and a tank top. Bright blue eyes that could be cool as steel, soft as water, or hard as ice. He’d seen all three variations, and each one never failed to stir his blood. And then there was her mouth. Soft pink lips that were made to smile and laugh but too often were turned downwards in a frown, thoughtful or focused. The small brown dot at the corner of her mouth seemed to wink at him in an endless tease. He’d seen her smile only a handful of times, but each was carved into his memory. 

She sat across from him at the desk adjoined to his. At first all he ever saw was her head bent over her books, sometimes fast asleep and other times in intense concentration. Sometimes he’d catch a glimpse of her hand as she reached up to plug a cord into one of the outlets. For whatever reason, he’d somehow chosen the seat directly across from her, and found himself unable to stop going back. 

It had only taken a few days to figure out her routine. She was there during lunch most days. On Mondays and Wednesdays she was hunched over the desk in the early morning hours before running to class. Fridays and Saturdays were hit or miss. Sundays, she appeared early and remained all day. She was a science major. He knew that from the countless times he’d seen biology and anatomy textbooks stacked by her feet when he stood to stretch or refill his water. 

She was also a fan of post-its and highlighters. On the rare occasion he passed her desk to go the opposite way, he saw bright notes and tabs posted all over her books, even on her laptop. Each hand held a highlighter - sometimes yellow, sometimes orange, always uncapped. She had a habit of chewing on the end of her pen as she studied. 

Now and then she would smile at him, usually when he got caught watching her a moment too long. Sometimes her smile was distracted, other times it was weary. One time it might have been a smirk. He still wasn’t sure. But there was one smile that may as well have been a beam of light for how it blinded him. 

He’d walked in completely drained from an argument with Octavia and all he’d wanted was to find his corner and hole up away from everything. Sometimes he felt like school was the only thing under his control, which was sad, because even that took every ounce of effort he had. 

As he’d walked along the mostly empty row, he’d seen the familiar blonde hair and felt himself relax without realizing it. Her head bobbed up and down to the music coming from her earbuds as she stood to stretch, before reaching down to dig in her bag. She was still doing a small dance, a slight sway of the hips as she silently mouthed the words, and Bellamy felt a smile stretch across his face. Her earbuds were purple. Yet another detail to file away in his head, in the small drawer marked ‘princess’. 

That was when she’d looked up and found him staring. She stopped moving but beamed in greeting, almost as if to say, _there you are_. A soft pink flush rose in her cheeks. He was completely done for.

Bellamy was smitten and he didn’t even know her name.

~~~~~~~~

“The library _again?_ ” Raven threw a pillow at her. “Seriously how do you get anything done in there? The place is a dustbin.”

Clarke shrugged, unfazed. “I like it. It’s quiet and peaceful and everyone sticks to themselves. On my floor, anyways. It’s the only place I can hear myself think.”

“You think too much,” her friend replied. But she grinned, and Clarke knew she understood.

“I’ll be back later and we can grab dinner,” she promised.

There was a small skip in her step as she headed up the stairs of the familiar gray building. As soon as she stepped inside the heavy double doors, the noise from the street faded to a dull murmur. She scanned in and hopped up the stairs, her bag swinging from her shoulder. As she passed by the familiar tall shelves, her fingers drifted along the spines of the books. Thick and thin, old and new, worn and shiny. She would never tire of a place with this many books. 

Absently, she wondered what kinds of books _he_ read. _He_ being the oft-tousled, dark haired boy with the sharp jaw who sat across from her almost every day. There was almost always a small, worn paperback peeking from the corner of his desk. Another quick glance had told her there were several pages tabbed at the corners, as if they were his go-to during a break or a rough day.

She took way too many of those quick glances. But some days, she couldn’t really help herself. 

He’d showed up at the beginning of the term, quietly exhausted and thoughtful, practically throwing his body into the seat and disappearing into his books. She would have noticed him even without the loneliness in his dark eyes. Outwardly, he was gorgeous. There was no denying it. He made things in her stomach flutter simply by smiling. Suddenly all of her anatomy lessons took on a very new meaning.

And yet, he carried himself so differently than most. It was like weariness was ingrained into his very being, as if bricks were piled on his shoulders and only increased day by day. He didn’t seem sad, not most of the time. Simply just tired, with everything. But Clarke saw how the tension eased when he dropped into the desk, how the lines on his forehead disappeared after a few moments of sitting, just him and the music and their small corner of the world. (Well, she liked to think of it as theirs.)

He was an early riser, appearing in the mornings with an extra-large coffee tumbler in hand. Tuesdays and Thursdays he would walk in right before lunchtime and drop into the seat, not moving for hours. Even Sundays, when most people tended to remain at home, she’d walked in to see him already at the desk without fanfare. She hadn’t quite been able to contain her surprised smile that first weekend, and it was the first time she’d received one in response. The change in his face had been startling. 

She wanted to give him more reasons to smile.

He was studying law. That much was obvious from the legal cases she saw scattered across his desk when she passed by. But now then there would be the occasional history book, pages opened to illustrations of a large battle. It piqued her curiosity to no end.

Clarke was surprised at how much he intrigued her. She just wanted to know _more,_ always more. Every small detail she observed, like how he bit his thumbnail to the core or tapped his foot in time to the music, and especially the black ink that peeked out from the underside of his arm when he stretched, was carefully catalogued in her mind.

Now, as she turned the corner and headed down the row to the back of the floor, she was trying to ignore the voice in her head that was wondering if he would be around today.

That same voice gave a loud cheer as soon as his curly dark hair came into view. Clarke had to bite down her smile, ducking her head as she passed by his familiar hunched form. His eyes lifted briefly, lighting up in greeting even as he bobbed to the music coming from the thick blue headphones over his ears. Now she did smile, her heart doing a backflip when he returned it.

She dropped her bag with a grateful thud, pulling out her things and settling in. In the back of her mind, she knew it was silly that simply his presence somehow eased her mind. And yet, that didn’t make it any less true. She wondered if there was any chance that the reverse was also the case. Curling into her chair, she put her earbuds in and let the music take over, losing herself in her notes. 

Only when her phone vibrated on the table hours later did she move, reaching an arm out.

“Hello?” She whispered.

“Are you seriously still in that library?” Raven’s loud voice echoed through the speaker, and Clarke scrambled off the chair, hurrying into another row of bookshelves.

“Sshhh. What’s up?”

“Well, I was going to apologize for canceling on dinner, but it looks like you forgot anyways.”

“Hey, I set an alarm,” Clarke replied defensively. “It was going to go off in like ten minutes.”

“Suuure,” her friend drawled, but she didn’t seem mad. In fact, she sounded relatively giddy. 

Clarke leaned against the shelf. “So why are you canceling on me?”

“I apparently have plans…” there was a long pause, “with Wick.”

Clarke did a silent jig, unable to squeal quite as loudly as she would have liked. “Finally! It took you long enough.”

“Yeah, yeah. So I’ll probably see you later.”

“Or tomorrow,” Clarke suggested with a grin, hearing her friend’s laughter on the other end.

She walked back to the desk, still smiling to herself. Her companion looked up as she approached, his dark eyes curious. The corner of his mouth lifted. She expected him to return to his work, like they always did, but he surprised her.

“Good news?” His voice was a low baritone, smooth as butter over bread. He asked it cautiously, as if he couldn’t really believe he was doing so, or that she would even answer.

Clarke nodded. “Yeah. For my friend. I don’t even mind that I’m being stood up for dinner.”

He grinned. “I’d imagine it would be very difficult to cancel on you.”

The flush that spread through her cheeks was instantaneous. He blinked, his eyebrows lifting. Then his grin widened further as he pushed the headphones off, letting them curl around his neck as he stood. He held out a hand.

“I’m Bellamy.”

Her hand grasped his, looking so small in his grip. “Clarke. Hi.”

“Hi.”

They stood holding hands far longer than necessary. Clarke wondered if the blush had spread all the way to her fingers by now. When they finally, reluctantly let go, there was a quiet moment in which she realized her interest hadn’t been one-sided. Bellamy appeared to be coming to the same conclusion, if she wasn’t misreading the spark of hope in his eyes. Clarke suddenly felt a bit braver.

“You’re studying law, right?” 

He nodded, a little surprised but also pleased that she’d noticed. “You’re bio?”

“Pre-med. Yeah.”

He gave a low whistle. “That’s tough.” At her questioning look, he elaborated, “My sister’s pre-health, too. Just hasn’t decided what direction to go in yet. Says she loves it all.” 

Clarke returned his grin. “That I can understand. What year is she?”

“Freshman.”

“Oh.” Clarke waved a hand. “She’s got plenty of time.”

“So I keep telling her.” His voice was affectionately exasperated.

“What’s her name?”

“Octavia.” 

_Octavia._ Why was that so familiar? Clarke’s eyes widened. “Octavia Blake? ” 

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up. “You know her?”

“Barely. I mean, I’ve tutored her a few times for chemistry.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Small world, huh?”

“Wow. Yeah, guess so.” 

“She’s a smart girl. She’ll be just fine.” Clarke didn’t know why she felt the need to reassure him, but he seemed to appreciate it nonetheless.

Bellamy leaned against the desk, his fingers absently tapping on the wood. His already-chewed thumbnail returned to his mouth in thought. Clarke was reaching out before she realized it.

“Oh, don’t do that.” Her hand grasped his wrist and tugged it away from his mouth.

Surprise flashed across his face, though he looked like he wanted to smile. Belatedly, she dropped his hand. Heat rose on her neck.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to- uh… My mom does that all the time,” she explained meekly. “Force of habit, I guess.”

His smile bloomed in understanding. “My mom used to do it, too. I suppose that’s where I got it from.”

 _Used to._ Clarke didn’t miss that he’d used past tense. 

A loud peal of laughter sounded in the hallway, making them both jump. They exchanged equally sheepish grins.

“Want to get out of here?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke nodded.

~~~~~~

A little while later, they stood waiting for the elevator in what Clarke had come to affectionately call _her_ building. It was really the science building, home to both bio and chem labs and classrooms, but she’d spent so much time here over the past couple years that it had started to feel like a second home.

When Bellamy had asked where she wanted to go, all she could think was that she wanted to take him somewhere… _different._ Somewhere that was hers. The small conservatory on the roof had come to mind immediately, and she’d tugged him along without a second thought. 

The chime sounded, signaling the elevator’s arrival. As soon as they stepped on and the doors closed, Clarke gulped. This was suddenly a very bad idea. She and Bellamy were now alone in a small steel box that seemed to be taking its sweet time ascending each floor. 

One. Two. 

The way they stood, her shoulder pressed into his chest, making her all too aware of his every breath until she realized her own breaths had slowed to match his. _In and out. In… and out._

Three. Four.

Clarke tilted her face just slightly to the left, studying the small brown dot directly under his jaw and the tanned, corded muscle that disappeared into the collar of his shirt. 

Five. 

His knuckles grazed hers softly. Her wrist brushed against his, sending sparks up her arm.

Six.

Bellamy’s head dipped imperceptibly, his warm breath fanning her cheek. Her pulse drummed in her ears. She leaned closer, unconsciously wetting her lips.

Seven. 

_DING._

They jumped apart. The doors opened to a few alternately bored and tired faces. Someone pointed down in question.

“Going up,” Bellamy said roughly.

The steel doors shut, and their wide-eyed reflections stared back. Clarke took a shaky breath. She was opening her mouth to make a weak joke when Bellamy hit the bright red STOP button and the elevator came to a shuddering halt.

Then he grabbed her elbow and pulled her to him, smashing their mouths together in a hungry kiss. Clarke’s gasp quickly turned into a sigh of pleasure. She stretched to her tiptoes and twisted her hands into his thick hair, her mouth molding to his. A strong arm curled around her waist to hold her close. He learned her with an eagerness that fueled her own craving for more. Her tongue swept into his mouth curiously, greedily, and the low groan that rumbled from his throat vibrated into her body. 

When her lungs vehemently protested, Clarke reluctantly wrenched her mouth away, tucking her face into the hollow of his neck. Her breaths came shallow and harsh, sounding loud in the small space. Somewhere in her mind, she smugly registered that Bellamy’s pulse was practically at a gallop. His chest heaved as he gulped in air with a similar need. His arms remained tight around her.

She finally peeked up to find his dark eyes already smiling. He cupped her cheek and rested his forehead against hers. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he confessed. The low timbre of his voice had her pulse doing cartwheels.

“Took you long enough,” Clarke replied breathlessly.

Bellamy laughed and kissed her again. 

~~~~~~~~

[Many days and many, many kisses later, they eventually did make it to the roof.]


End file.
